I wrote this essay when I was angry.

I consider myself a rational, reasonable individual. My life has been one of success—working hard, pushing the envelope, and achieving. Deep down, though, I think I’m very guilty of believing that if you build it and honor it, they will come.

Maybe I internalized that 1989 movie, Field of Dreams, a little too much. Because the truth is, you can build it, plant the seeds, water it faithfully—and still, nothing grows. Sometimes you have to ask: is this the right garden? Do I have the right seeds. Or is this one of those seasons of famine, not feast?

Over the last 24 months, the stumbles in my journey have forced me to admit something, I’d rather not, that the missteps hurt. I’ve been pretending that they don’t hurt. But they do. Even when you turn the other cheek, the bruise on the other one is still there. When disappointment seeps into your bones, or you let circumstances get under your skin, or you start connecting dots—boy you begin to wonder if you’ve been blind. On those days, I ask myself: am I becoming a conspiracy theorist? Or did I just choose not to believe my own eyes?

Even a calm, levelheaded woman has to acknowledge when she is hurt and angry. My logical side tells me, “It’s just business. It’s politics. It’s economics. It’s not personal.” But every time I put pen to paper, it is personal. Part of me spills onto the page. When you meet my characters, you’re also meeting pieces of me—my wounds, my fears, my hopes, even some dreams. It sounds crazy, but that’s the life of an artist.

Perhaps, we are a little bit off. Who else would willingly put their words or their creations out there to be scrutinized by strangers? You might have to be a little crazy to face bloodthirsty reviews or accept the brunt of someone’s bad day, all because of something you were burning to create.

To be a writer or artist requires audacity—the belief that your story is worth telling, your song is worth hearing, you canvas is worth showing off. And even the humblest creators have to admit we are audacious.

Again, I say you have to be a little bit off because the road to creation is long, filled with danger, rejection, and the occasional spiral into bone crushing doubt.

So to my fellow writers who hit walls—whether self-inflicted, systemic, or circumstantial—own the pain. Then release it. My art is my statement to the world. Within the pages, one can find my zeal and my anger. I own it. I Vanessa Riley get angry sometimes.

I promise you that my anger is a mirror of my passion. It equates to all the research and translations and microfiche that I will search to gather fresh facts. I work hard.

I don’t intend to stop. As I write this essay for my podcast, I intend to keep making art. Because I believe, that I have a message the world needs to hear.

In the coming months, until Fire Sword and Sea releases, you’ll hear me talking about it, the hardest book I had to write. Yes, it’s about pirates in the Caribbean where you will have a diverse crew on the top of the boat working together, while chattel slavery exists within the bowls of the ship. So a meritocracy on top with White and Black and Brown pirates with enslaved people chained below. It’s messy. It’s complicated. It’s action filled. It’s true.

I will shout it from rooftops, fight to get it attention. The story matters. Because when we hide the past, we hide ourselves. And when we hide our anger, we hide our authenticity. And the fight to make it public hasn’t been easy. It’s made me angry.

It’s ok to be angry, but we can’t let anger fester. Then it turns into cynicism, inaction, and paralysis. I’m a work in progress and I’ve had to take my bottled-up feelings and release them through prayer and being able to hope for more. I gave up the noise to make room for healing.

So, you’re not crazy. You are not a conspiracy theorist. You are human. You are hurting. But the world still deserves to see your art.

Anger isn’t always productive. It doesn’t move the needle by itself. Acting while angry can cost you jobs, power, and peace. So yes—be angry but be wise. Be quick to release any sour heat churning in your soul. My advice is to do what must be done. Do your calling.

And as for me, I’ll live to play in my art another day and I ‘ll let God fight my present day and future battles.

This week’s reading list includes:

The Dance of Anger by Harriet Lerner – A classic on understanding anger, especially for women, and how to use it as a tool for growth rather than destruction.

Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women’s Anger by Soraya Chemaly – Examines how women’s anger has been dismissed, and why it’s actually a powerful, transformative force.

Letter to My Daughter by Maya Angelou – Gentle but firm reflections on disappointment, resilience, and the courage to be authentic.

Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde – Essays and speeches on anger, identity, and transformation through truth-telling.

This week, I’m highlighting Bookmarks, NC through their website and Bookshop.org

The preorder campaign has begun, get the collector cards for characters in Fire Sword and Sea—Help me build momentum for this historical fiction. Please ask your library to carry this novel and spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about lady pirates in the 1600s. This saga releases January 13, 2026. The link on my website shows retailers that are in on the campaign. Get the collector cards while supplies last.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

If you’re ready to move with purpose and power, hit that like button and subscribe to Write of Passage—be a part of my crew. Your journey deserves community.

Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe